Chapter 565

Vivian Laurent jolted awake, her nightgown damp with cold sweat.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as the remnants of her nightmare receded like tidewater, leaving only a lingering palpitation.

At three in the morning, she padded barefoot to the kitchen for water.

The chilled glass pressed against her palm as she stared blankly into the inky darkness beyond the window.

Her fingers absently grazed her still-flat abdomen—where an unexpected life had taken root.

The thought tightened her chest like a vise.

She knew better than anyone the taste of growing up in a broken home.

The fatherless childhood. The memory of her mother's tear-streaked face. These scars were etched into her bones.

"Baby..." Her whisper cracked with emotion.

If she kept this child, Ethan Roscente would inevitably find out.

But to give it up...

Her grip on the glass turned white-knuckled.

How she longed for the numbing burn of alcohol, but even that escape was forbidden to her now.

———

Dawn light filtered through the curtains when the rich aroma of breakfast roused Vivian.

She followed the scent downstairs to find Isabella Langley emerging from the kitchen with a plate of fried eggs.

"Perfect timing." Isabella winked. "Taste test for me?"

Finn Deross shuffled out of the guest room rubbing his eyes, nostrils flaring. "Smells amazing!"

He bounded to the table, eyes gleaming. "Isabella Langley cooking? Did hell freeze over?"

"Shut up." She shoved toast into his mouth. "This is for Vivian. You're just collateral."

Finn chewed mournfully. "How is a handsome guy like me just collateral?"

Vivian's lips twitched, the shadows in her heart momentarily lifting.

"Oh," Finn suddenly remembered, "Uncle went back to the family estate. Asked me to tell you."

Vivian's lashes lowered as her fork absently prodded the eggs.

"He said..." Finn scratched his head. "Call him if you need anything."

"Mmm." Her reply was barely audible.

Isabella shot Finn a glare. "No talking at the table. Eat."

Finn hunched his shoulders, wolfed down his food, and made a hasty exit.

As the door opened, Ethan Roscente's silhouette appeared in the doorway.

Dark circles bruised his eyes—clear evidence of sleepless nights.

"Is Vivian here?" His voice was gravel-rough.

Before Finn could answer, Ethan shouldered past him into the living room.

"Vivian!"

Isabella's fork clattered onto her plate.

She surged to her feet, eyes blazing. "Ethan Roscente!"

Ethan barely had time to react before Isabella whirlwinded into the kitchen.

The next second, the cold edge of a chef's knife pressed against his throat.